Not Another Vampire Story - 6
6. Farewell to Summer II
PG13. Tween, humor, middle school, angst, vampires, serial, teen, fiction, summer. #ReadFree
Suggested Music: K-Pop YouTube
And the water gets deeper. . . Yikes!
At the kitchen counter sat her peers, or so Brian had called them. His kids and a few other like-aged teens that had been towed to the party by their parents. Kristi was applying lip gloss to her already ultra-shiny lips, posing for herself in a compact mirror. Before her was a glass of diet Seven-Up and sliced lemons. To her right was Lane, a little less-lanky than Sylvia remembered him from New Year's Eve, sporting a new shorter cut to his brown hair since the previous party bash. Across from them, kitchen-side, were two other middle teens leaning their backs to the counter.
Lane pulled a tall counter chair out some so Sylvia could sit down, looking her over carefully. "Have a seat. If you think that skirt will let you."
She hiked herself into the chair, barely able to do so without adding a slit to the skirt. "Hey."
"Hey yourself." He pushed a plate of peanut-rice balls to her. "They're hot."
She didn't know if he meant spicy or temperature hot. Kristi deemed her lips sufficiently shellacked and stowed her compact and lip gloss in a tiny purse hanging from her shoulder. She pulled at her mini dress skirt, making a face at her brother.
"Is anyone going swimming at this loser-fest or is it just old people and bad jokes?" she asked no one.
"We'll swim when Josie gets here," Lane said, a smile coming to his eyes. "I'll bet she doesn't wear a one-piece."
There was an exchange of elbows between them and Sylvia decided to take a bite of the peanut ball. She'd just bit off half of it when her cell phone rang and she fumbled for it in her waistband. Holly, of course.
She answered it. "Hey, Holly."
"Well, is he there yet?" Holly wasn't alone; her two babysitting charges could be heard in the background arguing over a Yu-Gi-Oh game. She hadn't had a chance to see Terry yet.
"No, he's not."
"Well, when's that stud getting there?"
Sylvia put her hand partly over the phone at Holly's outburst. "Later."
Lane had heard. "Who're you waiting on, Sylvi?"
"I'm not." She chewed the rice and peanut clump quickly as the heat started in her mouth. He'd meant spicy. She looked around at the pitchers of punch on the counter, fanning her hand at her face.
"Told you," he said, reaching for a blue plastic cup and pouring it full from a pitcher. He set it before her.
"Thanks," she said, drinking half of it as Holly said 'hello' for the third time. She said into the phone, "I'm right here, Holly. I'll call you when they're here and give you an inch by inch description, okay?"
"Don't forget, Red. I'm miserable here. I gotta see this one."
"You will. Bye." Sylvia closed the phone and stuck it back into her skirt.
"You know, they make holders for those things," Lane said as Kristi crowded him to push the bowl of chili sauce to her. When she moved, her glittered ponytail almost wiped him in the face. He frowned at the facefull of hair. "Get out, Kristi."
Kristi threw him a look and glanced across the counter to one of the two fifteen-year-old boys from other guests. "You guys want to go down to the ice cream place? Lane's buying."
"I am not." Lane shoved her nearly off her chair.
"How far?" one asked, looking from Kristi to Sylvia.
Sylvia returned his stare. They both had two-toned blond hair and earrings in each ear, one a piercing in his eyebrow, and the other with a stud in his lip. Yuck. What a poor selection of almost-manhood, she thought. Terry hadn't had any piercings, as she recalled.
"Just outside the sub. Two blocks." Kristi batted her eyes, her smoky-eye purple eye shadow thick.
"No way, you tramp. You're not going anywhere with anyone I don't know," Lane said, catching her dress skirt as she slid off the chair.
Kristi batted at his hand. "I'll tell Dad about your new tattoo."
Lane frowned. "Shut up."
"Then I'm going." Kristi stuck her tongue out at him.
The blondest of the two boys across the counter made an off-color comment about Kristi's gesture and what she could do to him with it, and Lane reached for him across the counter, nearly knocking over the pitcher. With a yelp, the blond boy was already in pain as Lane's hands closed around his shoulder and collar at his throat, dragging him almost over the counter.
Sylvia popped the last bite of peanut ball into her mouth and saved her punch cup from certain death as the scuffle made its way to the end of the counter, with Lane tugging and the blond boy ow-ing about his collar in Lane's hand.
As if the shirt could really hurt, Sylvia thought as she went into the rec room.
She took a seat on the sofa nearest the square coffee table, ignoring the scuffle in the kitchen between the two boys, swallowing a gulp of punch to put out the fire in her throat from the peanut-ball. The sofa opposite her was already crowded. She reached for the devilled eggs on the platter at the table before realizing they were the fancy kind—all flute-piped filling with scallion and caviar toppings. She decided instead to help herself to the plate of asparagus wrapped in thin strips of ham. She took a small plastic plate from the stack and put two asparaguses on it and then two stuffed mushrooms from another serving tray.
In the kitchen area someone—an older someone—was breaking up the squabble between Lane and the pierced-boy, but Sylvia didn't look there. So, Lane had a new tattoo. She wondered where.
Her cell phone rang again, and she paused before answering it. Yup. Holly, the screen read. It'd only been ten minutes. She wished her camera function worked. Ever since its impromptu dip in the pool last June she'd been without. The sofa cushion suddenly moved and Sylvia looked to see another woman in her mid-thirties sit down, squishing her into a corner to make room for a man in his early forties. Sylvia wiggled away, smiling and nodding at the woman when she turned to her.
"Not bothering you, are we, honey?" she asked, but then turned back to the man before Sylvia could answer.
Sylvia decided to take the call on the third ring, easing farther away from the couple.
"Where the heck are you?" Holly asked as soon as Sylvia said hello.
"Where I was ten minutes ago. No, he's not here yet." Even as the words left Sylvia's mouth, the front door opened and she saw Julia and Terry step in. Well, actually she saw their elbows around the half-balustered wall, but she knew it was them. And she wasn't the only one noticing.
"Well, who is that?" the woman beside her said, pushing away from the man at her side and straining for a better view into the living room.
Sylvia looked to her, trying not to giggle at the overly made-up eyes and bosom heaved into a bra past the pushed-up stage. "That's my sister, Julia," she said, answering the wrong question on purpose.
"Oh. Who's that with her?"
The man was now clearing his throat, his hand grappling with the woman's thumb ring.
"Did you say Julia?" Holly's voice chirped. "Hey, Sylvia?"
Sylvia took a moment to stand up without splitting her skirt and managed to climb over the assorted legs extended from the other sofa, and went to the side wall.
"Yeah, they're here," she said into the phone. "Oh, he looks good tonight." She fringed the wall, not too closely, as it was stucco and pointy, until she was at the corner of the rec and living rooms. Now she could clearly see her sister and Terry.
Julia was decked in her usual: a different little black dress trimmed in gold beading, perky figure graceful in the snug fit, black sandals beaded with rhinestones.
"Hello?"
Sylvia sighed into the phone. "Yeah, I'm here. Dark hair, like black."
"Like black? Nishikido Ryo black, or American guy black?"
Sylvia found herself looking at the phone. "Holly, is there a difference between Asian black and American black hair?"
"You know there is."
"Dark brown eyes, piercing, and—"
"How close are you, Red? Right on top of them?"
"No. I just remembered that part." Sylvia moved farther into the living room as Julia and Terry went into the hall leading to the family rooms on the other side of the house. She hung back, watching them turn into a room she knew was a bedroom, the sounds of the party and the outdated music fading a bit behind her as a peppier tune started up.
Sylvia stood at an angle in the hall, able to see into the darkened room without being too obvious. Inside, Terry had taken Julia into his arms, her hands on his chest, a moment of kissing. And then his arms pulled her closer, encompassing until she was pressed against him, his lips on her neck, a look of bliss on her face that Sylvia had never seen before.
Sylvia took a step back, glad her sister's eyes were closed so she couldn't see her in the hall. She saw Julia's fingers curl against Terry's black polo shirt, and heard something akin to a whimper escape her. They parted some, a lingering kiss once more, and Julia wiped his lower lip of her lipstick, smiling and speaking lowly to him.
"Like who?" Holly's voice squealed.
Sylvia startled, nearly dropped the phone, and ducked into the empty bathroom a few feet away before Julia could spot her.
"Shhhh!" Sylvia hissed into the phone.
"You're the one who said it, not me."
"What? What did I say?" Sylvia's hands were shaking. Had she been narrating that aloud?
Julia suddenly appeared in the doorway and Sylvia snapped the phone off. "Hey, sis. What're you doing in here?"
"N-Nothing," Sylvia stammered as her sister stood beside her, flicking on the light and looking at herself in the sink mirror.
"No Holly tonight?" Julia studied her reflection, touching a hair that had become mussed.
"No. Babysitting." She watched Julia smooth her dress, turn and lift one shoulder at her reflection.
"Lane is supposed to be here."
"Yeah, I saw him already." Sylvia looked at her sister's neck. Not a mark on her.
"That means his trademark fight."
"I think he already had it."
"Oh?"
"Some metro-sexual guy. Pincushion." Sylvia's mouth felt dry. "You'll see him out there. Probably has a black-eye by now."
Julia smiled, looking over Sylvia's attire. "Cute outfit."
"Thanks." Sylvia wished her heart would stop beating so loudly, before Julia could hear it. The phone rang in her hand and she gripped it with both hands. "Probably Holly."
Julia gave her a smile. "See you at the pool, sis."
"Yup."
Julia left and Sylvia peeked down the hall to make sure she was gone before closing the door and answering the phone. "Hey, Holly," she said meekly, leaning against the bathroom vanity.
"What's the big idea dropping me?"
"Sorry."
"What's going on?"
"Sorry." Sylvia sighed. "Okay?"
"What was all that about?"
"What did I say?'
"Humph," Holly said, miffed. "'Leaning over her, ravishing like a Dracula.' What kind of description is that, Red?"
Good grief, had she really said that aloud? "That's not what I meant, Holly. I'll catch you up later."
"Wait a minute, Sylvi—"
"I'll call you later." Sylvia clicked off the phone. She took a deep breath, wondering why on earth she'd made such a description about Terry. It wasn't what she'd seen. It must have been all those stupid, cheaply-made movies she'd seen on late night TV. Maybe it was the half-ecstatic expression on her sister's face.
She opened the door and peered down the hall at the bedroom, inching forward, and then stopped abruptly. Inside the darkened room she saw Terry standing near the dresser, his shadowy reflection in the mirror seeming hazy, highlighted by the bright early moonlight from the window. To her surprise he looked unlike she'd seen him before. His face was the same, but his complexion appeared drained, almost pale, nearly gaunt, making his hair seem that much darker. The mirror reflected only his eyes with any definition, and there was a strange vapid veneer to them.
And in his hand he held a syringe, his fingers tight, guiding the plunger, the needle in the flesh of his other arm, crooked and steadied against his side, a rubber band wrapped and tied near his elbow. His jaw was set, a somber expression on his face.
Sylvia stood motionless, watching in horror as he finished shooting up. He removed the rubber band at his arm and rummaged around in a small bag on the dresser. She saw him go to the window, his fingers opening and closing a few times, the movement exposing the patch on his skin near his sleeve. In the light of the moon he appeared to regain some of his lost color.
Sylvia slowly backed down the hall, her shoes catching on the carpet. She nearly stumbled, and then turned, making her way quickly back to what was again disco music, her mind numb.
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Thanks to Sakurapu for sharing her story!
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